Glory in Death - J. D. Robb [81]
Still, she could see Moe fire questions at David and could gauge his stuttering responses while Larry and Curly looked grim and scribbled furiously on their pads.
Moe shook her head at one of David’s answers, stabbed him with one of her lethal red nails. Eve was smiling when Moe lifted a hand and signaled her back into the room.
“My client is prepared to state that he was acquainted with Yvonne Metcalf, on a professional level.”
“Uh-huh.” This time Eve leaned a hip on the table. “Yvonne Metcalf was giving you some grief, wasn’t she, Mr. Angelini?”
“We were in negotiations.” His hands linked together again, twisted. “It’s standard for the talent side of a project to demand the moon. We were . . . coming to terms.”
“You met her in her apartment. Argued?”
“We—I—we had meetings at several locations. Her home was one of them. We discussed terms and options.”
“Where were you, Mr. Angelini, on the night Yvonne Metcalf was murdered?”
“I’d have to check my diary,” he said with surprising control. “But I believe I was in New Los Angeles, the Planet Hollywood complex. I stay there whenever I’m in town.”
“And where might you have been between oh, seven and midnight, West Coast time?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“You’re going to want to say, Mr. Angelini.”
“Most likely in my room. I had a great deal of business to see to. The script needed reworking.”
“The script you were tailoring for Ms. Metcalf.”
“Yes, actually.”
“And you were working alone?”
“I prefer to be alone when I write. I wrote the script, you see.” He flushed a little, the color rising from the collar of his shirt. “I put a great deal of time and effort into preparing it.”
“You keep a plane?”
“A plane. Naturally, the way I travel, I—”
“Was your plane in New Los Angeles?”
“Yes, I—” His eyes went wide and blank as he realized the implication. “You can’t seriously believe this!”
“David, sit down,” Moe said firmly when he lurched to his feet. “You have nothing more to say at this time.”
“She thinks I killed them. That’s insane. My own mother, for God’s sake. What reason? What possible reason could there be for that?”
“Oh, I’ve got a few ideas on that. We’ll see if the shrink agrees with me.”
“My client is under no obligation to submit to psychiatric testing.”
“I think you’re going to advise him to do just that.”
“This interview,” Moe said in snippy tones, “is terminated.”
“Fine.” Eve straightened, enjoyed the moment when her eyes met David’s. “David Angelini, you’re under arrest. You are charged with leaving the scene of a crime, obstruction of justice, and attempted bribery of a police officer.”
He lunged at her, going ironically, Eve thought, for the throat. She waited until his hands had closed over it, his eyes bulging with fury, before she knocked him down.
Ignoring the snapping orders of his attorney, Eve leaned over him. “We won’t bother with adding assaulting an officer and resisting arrest. I don’t think we’re going to need it. Book him,” she snapped at the uniforms who had charged the door.
“Nice work, Dallas,” Feeney congratulated as they watched David being led away.
“Let’s hope the PA’s office thinks so, enough to block bail. We have to hold him and sweat him. I want him on murder one, Feeney. I want him bad.”
“We’re close to it, kid.”
“We need the physical evidence. We need the damn weapon, blood, the souvenirs. Mira’s psychiatric will help, but I can’t bump up the charges without some physical.” Impatient, she consulted her watch. “Shouldn’t take too long to get a search warrant, even with the lawyers trying to block.”
“How long you been up?” he wondered. “I can count the circles under your eyes.”
“Long enough that another couple of hours won’t matter. How about I buy you a drink while we wait for the warrant?”
He put a paternal hand on her shoulder. “I think we’re both going to need one. The commander got wind of it. He wants us, Dallas. Now.”
She dug a finger along the center of her brow. “Let’s get it together then. And make it two drinks after we’re done.”
Whitney didn’t waste time.